“Are you my nursemaid?” asked Zach.

“You need a plan, not a drink.”

In Zach’s opinion, that was definitely debatable.

They slowed to a stop for a red light at another intersection. Two taxi drivers honked and exchanged hand gestures, while a throng of people swelled out from the sidewalk in the light drizzle and made their way between the stopped cars.

“She thinks I got her fired,” Zach admitted.

“Did you?”

“No.”

Dylan sent him a skeptical look. “Is she delusional? Or did you do something that resembled getting her fired?”

“Fine.” Zach shifted his feet on the floor of the Porsche. “I canceled the Hutton Quinn contract to renovate the office building. The plans weren’t even close to what I wanted.”

“And they fired her,” Dylan confirmed with a nod of comprehension.

Zach held up his palms in defense. “Their staffing choices are none of my business.”

Kaitlin’s renovation plans had been flamboyant and exotic in a zany, postmodern way. They weren’t at all in keeping with the Harper corporate image.

Harper Transportation had been a fixture in New York City for a hundred years. People depended on them for solid reliability and consistency. Their clients were serious, hardworking people who got the job done through boom times and down times.

“Then why do you feel guilty?” asked Dylan as they swung into an underground parking lot off Saint Street.

“I don’t feel guilty.” It was business. Nothing more and nothing less. Zach knew guilt had no part in the equation.

It was not as if he should have accepted inferior work because he’d once danced with Kaitlin, held her in his arms, kissed her mouth and wondered for a split second if he’d actually gone to heaven. Decisions that were based on a man’s sex drive were the quickest road to financial ruin.

Dylan scoffed an exclamation of disbelief as he came parallel with the valet’s kiosk. He shut off the car and set the parking break.